Distraction in the Evening

Distant fields, marbled with penumbras of clouds,

Isolated within the cradle of the hills. Here, I

Stand, repose against the waiting wind, their touch

Tantalizing a flavor of the autumn chill, in the

Rain-scented late-summer world. My phone buzzes,

Again. My scheduled task for the day. It might be

Clean the lint trap, balance your checkbook, breathe—

Truly, I can’t recall. But here, I can see, against the

Illustrated watercolors of the dying sun, the

Oranges, reds, deep purples and onyx blacks—

No. Not distracted. Only here.